Blood and Steel: A Clone Wars fanfic
by TavVermare
Summary: Commander Drake is the scarred and bitter clone commander of the GARs' 230th Battalion. Jedi Apprentice Alanna Starsong is new to command of the clone troopers. General Jerik Adraxis wishes to keep the men under him alive, but during this time of conflict, that is becoming more and more difficult . Follow the 230th from the Battle of Geonosis, to Order 66
1. Introductions

**Prologue**

**Battle of Geonosis**

_The gunship, an LAAT/i, roared through the orange-red skies of Geonosis, carrying a compliment of thirty clone troopers, all shiny in their new, white armour, except for one man, who had the yellow stripes of a commander. CC-1223/1993 held onto the gunships grab rail, keeping his balance as the ship jinked to avoid anti aircraft fire. "Remember lads, when we touch down, we hit them hard, and rendezvous with the hundred and twelfth to assist with their objective" a chorus of acknowledgements met this announcement. The soldiers were only thirty out of a full battalion. The two hundred and thirtieth battalion, had trained together on Kamino. If any of them were nervous about their first battle, none of them showed it. _

_That was when everything went to hell. A Geonosian pilot, either desperately, or deliberately, rammed his ship into the side of the gunship. The tip of the spear tip shaped fighter rammed through the closed door of the gunship, sending it into an uncontrollable spin. The other side of the gunship rammed something, possibly the canyon wall, and the roar of the ships engines took on an urgent whine. "Brace yourselves!" Bellowed the commander, and seconds later, the ship nose-dived into the desert sand of the planet. Corpses littered the bottom of the ship, either killed by the collision, or the final crash. Only four troopers had survived, out of the thirty in the gunship. _

_The sound of approaching battle droids came to '23, and the three others. The troopers sprang up, opening fire on the enemy. One trooper took several blaster bolts to his upper chest, and collapsed. The commander stumbled out of the ruin of the gunship, firing his own DC-15A blaster at the, emotionless, death delivering machines marching towards him. A waist height droid, with four legs and a spherical body, a long laser cannon, and large, spherical red eyes.A dwarf spider droid. It honed in on him, and fired. He felt, rather than heard, the blaster laser punch through his chest plate. The force of the bolt threw him back into the gunship, where the side of the gunship door slammed into him. Something had caught fire, and he could feel the hot metal burning into his flesh. Unfortunately, there was no one left alive to hear his screams. _

**Chapter One**

**Introductions **

**Republic Base, Coruscant**

**96 days after the battle of Geonosis**

Geonosis after action report: Twelve thousand seriously injured men, eight thousand walking wounded, approximately seventy two thousand men fit for combat

CC-1223/1993, also known as Drake, jerked awake with a stifled gasp. Recently, the nightmares had gotten worse. He wasn't supposed to have nightmares...clones had been flash-drilled to not have nightmares. Or show fear in battle, or question orders, ever. Drake had done all of that, at some point after Geonosis, but mostly within the sanctuary of his helmet. The Jedi might have their magical 'Force' to help them out, but even they couldn't hear conversations inside a closed comm channel.

Throwing off the thin blanket that was covering him, he noticed a slight tremor in his right hand, and glared at it until it stilled. He was one of four clones in the room, all of whom were identical to Drake. Black hair, brown eyes, six feet tall, and well to the Kaminoans, he, like all his brothers, aged at an accelerated rate. Drake had the body and mind of a twenty year old man, but really, he was ten years of age. The only difference between the four of them, was Drakes' scars. The large, blaster scar in the center of his chest, and the burn scars all over his back, wide, criss-crossing scars from the ruin of the gunship door three months ago. He had a few smaller scars on his face, from the shrapnel of his brother's armour.

Normally, someone would have seen their scars as a sign of individuality, but for Drake, they were a constant reminder of his greatest failure. He was a clone commander, bred to lead his brothers in combat, and to be there for them when they needed a helping hand, or a sympathetic ear. Falling apart because of the nightmares and his scars was not an option._ Ever_. Only Cross, the medic in the squad, and Vyre, one of the captains in the battalion and Drakes close friend knew of his fears. Fears of being . Fear of going back to Kamino. Again.

Shaking his fears away, or to the back of his mind for now, at least. Punching in the combination for the armour locker, he pulled on his black bodysuit, legs first, then the top. Then he placed on his boots, greaves, poleyn, thigh plates, the front and back plates, that connected at the shoulders by a pair of magnetic clasps, his belt, containing extra ammunition, a pair of thermal detonators, a water bottle, and med kit. Then the gauntlets,lames, vambraces,cowter, rerebraces, spaulders, and finally, the helmet.

As he placed it on his head, he blinked once, bringing up any messages or alerts that he needed to know about. Only one message, informing Drake that the 230th would be receiving their new Jedi commander and general in about one hour. The clone sighed, a little disappointed, and a little irritated. The battalions last Jedi had died trying to protect civilians from an AAT, an armoured assault tank. Both the Jedi and the civvies had ended up as a red mist. After that battle, on a planet Drake couldn't remember the name of, GAR command had sent the 230th to Coruscant, to recover from their wounds, and await a new general.

Technically, a major should have led the battalion, not Drake, but for whatever reason, he was in charge._ 'Then again, we can hardly be thought of as a full battalion,now can we?_' Thanks to casualties from both Geonosis, and subsequent battles in the past couple of months, the battalion had been whittled down from the standard four companies, six hundred and sixty men, to three companies. Reinforcements had yet to arrive from Kamino, and he personally doubted they would. Other battalions, companies, and regiments besides the 230th had been hit hard since the beginning of the war.

"Drake? You okay?" _'Vyre'_ even when he was in full armour, Vyre always seemed to know when he was sinking into one of his moods. Vyre was the captain of the battalions first company, and Drakes' second. "Fine, Vyre, just thinking about meeting the new general today" he responded. The other trooper grunted in surprise "that's today? I thought they wouldn't get off their _shebs'_ until next week, at least" the commander shrugged, watching as the captain dressed in his own body suit and began armouring up. "I guess they want us ready to go as soon as possible" he remarked, nodding to the two other troopers that were getting out of their bunks. Jag and Cross, a trooper, and medic, respectively. The rest of the nine man squad was in the other room, probably already awake and armouring up.

"Help me with this, will you?" Drake glanced over to see Vyre struggling with the back plate. It wasn't always easy to fasten the magnetic clamps, and best to have a brother help. Wordlessly, he brought up the back plate, and fastened the two clamps. Vyre nodded his thanks, and placed his own helmet on. Another anonymous, white helmeted, with a T-shaped visor. Both of them had gold yellow markings on their armour. Vyre had a trim of gold on his chest plates, helmet, and pauldrons, while Drake had painted his lames, the plates covering the top of his hands, solid yellow gold, as well as his shoulder pauldrons.

It was common practice in most, if not all units to paint their armour with the unit colour. Of course, troopers needed to earn the colours in battle, before they could mark the armour. Drake wasn't entirely sure where the tradition had come from. Perhaps it was a desire for individuality, or an act of defiance against the Kaminoans. The first thing all troopers did when they were safely away from Kamino was remove the ultra-violet markings the skinny grey freaks had placed on their armour to identify them.

All of Drakes' squad had markings'. Ice, the squads' sergeant, nodded in greeting as they filed out of the barracks, and towards the mess hall. "Another beautiful morning on Coruscant" the sergeant said brightly. "Ice, have you been hitting the stims?" Jag asked, his helmet tucked under one arm,revealing his grin. And the jagged scar that ran from just over his left eye, across the bridge of his nose, and ending at the corner of his mouth. The scar that had inspired him to name himself 'Jag'. Despite the injury, he kept a good sense of humour, and wasn't afraid to crack jokes, at anyone's expense.

The squad sergeant, despite outranking the trooper, just chuckled and shook his head. "Maybe I'm just naturally cheery" he said, stepping into the mess hall. Most of the battalion, those that weren't on shift, were in the mess hall, getting breakfast. "Nuna eggs, and nerf bacon again" groaned Vyre, heading for a mostly unoccupied table. Following, Jag quipped "would you prefer dry rations?" The captain shuddered. It wasn't that dry rations tasted bad...they just didn't taste like anything. They had all the nutrients that a soldier's body needed to keep functioning, cut down on fibre, and were despised by clones. They'd eat almost anything else, and almost all of them had a sweet tooth.

Not that any of them had ever had sweets. Or much of anything else, except food approved by the Kaminoans. Setting his tray down, piled with scrambled eggs, and perhaps more than the approved amount of bacon, he tucked into his meal. He'd probably need the strength for dealing with the new general, if they were anything like the old one. Drake had never opposed the first generals decisions, but he'd quietly despised the man. He wasted men to take impregnable bunkers and command stations. Despite Drake giving tactical advice, and being ignored, he'd followed his training like a good little trooper, and lost an entire company of good men. And then the general had gone and gotten himself blown to bits.

"Waste" he grunted, and Cross, sitting opposite him shot him a puzzled look. He shook his head, indicating the medic shouldn't pay him any attention._ 'Gotta keep my head in the game. For all I know, these Jedi might be decent'_ he reasoned. But he doubted it, and suspected he wouldn't ever fully regain the respect he'd had for the Jedi at the beginning of the war. He ate quickly, chewing the minimum amount of times, as had been drilled into him on Kamino. They finished their breakfast quickly. The night shift people were just coming in, to eat their supper, before heading to bed.

"The Jedi are supposed to be arriving in a few minutes, at the landing pad, in the next few minutes" Drake announced, wiping his mouth, and putting on his helmet. The squad stood with him, copying him. With a nod, the commander lead the eight men outside, where an air speeder was setting down, with a man and woman, wearing the typical Jedi robes. "At attention, men" he ordered softly, and the eight clones snapped to attention, blasters held diagonally across their chests, legs together, heads high.

Drake strode towards the now settled speeder, trying to keep his less than pleasant thoughts under control. By now the Jedi were out of the speeder, and making their way towards him. He stopped just short of them, and snapped to attention, bringing his left hand up in a salute. "cc-1223/1993 reporting for duty" the two Jedi, an older man that Drake presumed to be in his mid to late forties, and the other,a younger girl, human, maybe eighteen, with long auburn hair, and curious, slightly frightened green eyes.

"Don't you have a name?" She asked. Drake stiffened, his eyes flicking from the older man, who was also watching him with a polite curiosity. "Yes...but it's private" he said, trying not to sound too rude. He didn't like Jedi, but he would have to be careful that they decided they didn't want him as a battalion commander and had him sent back to Kamino. The girl frowned, but only for a moment, before shrugging, and saying "well, my name is Alanna Starsong. I'm an apprentice, as you can see by my braid" she held up the twined hair for his instruction.

The other Jedi, the man, stepped forwards, extending his hand for shaking. Automatically, Drake mirrored the gesture, clasping the mans' hand. "Jedi knight Jevik Adraxis, a pleasure to meet you, commander" underneath his helmet, the clone frowned. He hadn't told the man his rank, and yet he'd known it without even a glance at his rank bars. "Yes, sir. The battalion will be ready to move out by nightfall" the general nodded, heading to introduce himself to the command squad. The apprentice commander, remained, staring at him with curiosity on her face.

"So...if you're a commander, and I'm a commander, does that mean we're on equal footing?" She didn't seem to mind being equal with a clone. In fact, she seemed interested in the possibility, but that just wasn't how things worked. "No ma'am. A Jedi automatically outranks any clone" he said, keeping his voice carefully neutral.

Alanna almost stumbled back from the dark...maelstrom of emotions coming from the clone commander. He definitively wasn't like the other clones she'd met. He was a tightly controlled vortex of hate and sorrow and violence. Something horrible must have happened to him in the last three months...and his men as well.

They didn't have the same amount of dark hatred, but they were cautious, almost skittish around the Jedi. Usually, clone troopers were trusting, and awe struck in the presence of Jedi. She'd been told this was because of their training, on the watery world of Kamino, where they'd been taught that Jedi were basically demigods.

She wasn't sure that was a good thing. Jedi were unsure of themselves too, they knew doubt, fear, grieved the loss of friends just as much as anyone else. Clones didn't believe her when she told them that. She didn't insist, knowing that it might make them feel better, believing they had someone powerful, and nearly omniscient leading them into battle.

She approached the line of eight troopers, who were still standing at attention. "At ease, men" master Jevik was saying, his hands clasped behind his back. The soldier relaxed slightly, lowering their weapons, and setting their feet farther apart. She approached one of the men, with a sergeants markings on his chest plate. "Hey there, do you mind if I ask your name? Your real name?" The sergeant hesitated, tilting his helmet to the side, obviously wondering why.

Slowly, carefully, he replied "the men call me Ice, ma'am" and then tensed, as if he expected to be punished for the independence he'd shown in naming himself. "A nice name, Ice" she said, smiling at the sergeant. "Mine is Alanna Starsong" she wasn't sure, but she thought the sergeant was smiling as well. She introduced herself to the rest of the squad, learning their names in return.

However, she noticed that the men she had and hadn't introduced herself too were still nervous. When she mentioned it to master Adraxis, he'd nodded grimly. "I'm not sure what happened, but the battalion is under strength, and they won't talk about their former assignments...none of them will" the two Jedi were concerned. For something so bad to happen that the troopers wouldn't even try talking to the two of them didn't speak well for their leadership of the battalion.


	2. Leaving Coruscant

**Chapter Two**

**The _Justice_**

**96 Days ABG**

_"Scars mean you weren't good enough...Too slow to duck, which usually means a trip to Kamino"_- Clone Commander Drake

The gunships deposited the two hundred and thirtieth in the hangar bay of the Venator class star destroyer, the_ Justice_, Coruscants' destroyer was huge, bigger than anything Jag had ever seen. "Learn the layout of the ship, men. Those of you not on duty, get to the mess, and pick out your bunks" the commander ordered. Jag acknowledged the order, and turned towards the ships barracks. The rest of the squad behind him, and picked an unoccupied bunk. "Get rid of your gear, and we'll get some food" sergeant Ice said, beginning to remove his own armour.

Jag removed his own helmet, opening the chest at the foot of the bunk he'd chosen. In moments, he had his armour off, and had dressed in off duty greys. Looking around, Jag noticed that only Dagger, Tor, Cross, and the sergeant were all with him, but the other four of the nine man squad were missing.'Probably came in on another gunship' he thought, rubbing absently at his scar. It was almost finished healing, but it itched like crazy sometimes.

Cross didn't like it when he rubbed at it. The medic had fussed over it in the early days, fearing it wouldn't heal properly. Being Jags' brother by choice, he worried more than he probably should have. A 'brother by choice' was what clones called the brother that they had chosen to have each others backs, knowing what one was going to do before he did it. Backing him up when he needed it. Cross and Jag had come out of Kamino together, which helped. They'd known each other their entire lives.

"Hey sarge, do you know where the others are?" Ice frowned thoughtfully.

"Hazard and Storm are on duty in the hangar bay. I think the commander wanted Sharp and River with him up on the bridge. Courtesy call to the admiral" Jag grunted his approval. He liked to keep an eye on his brothers, ever since Geonosis. Maybe it was from surviving the first battle of the war, those that had survived had bonded. Until the battle a month ago, where they'd lost an entire company. A hundred and forty-four men, in one battle, along with their general. And Jag had gotten his scar, and his name.

He nodded towards two troopers, Dagger and Tor "get us a table, we'll get the chow" the sergeant turned and joined a group of sergeants from the three companies. Jag didn't mind, really, since Ice hadn't had much of a chance to talk with his fellow sergeants since the battle. Most had been on different duty shifts than he had. Cross and Jag got meals for the four of them. Mashed topatoes and roba steak, with cups of muja juice. Turning to the table that Tor and Dagger had picked out, near the door to the mess hall and to the right, across from the sergeants table.

Dagger grinned at the meal in front of him, digging in eagerly. Tor, however, was observing the sergeant with a shrewd look in his eye. "What do you wanna bet that he's discussing new way's of torture to use on us?" Cross snorted, and Jag grinned at the man. Tor was one of the soldiers that tended to complain about practices...and then do twice as good as everyone else. "Why, Tor, planning on out doing us again?" joked Cross, cutting into the steak, and making a face.

"Could they actually try defrosting the _shabla_ food before serving it to us?" He grumbled, glaring at the pre-cooked, and flash frozen steak. The others laughed, and Dagger said "well, you could always be the cook, Cross" the squad medic laughed and shook his head. They talked and joked for a little while longer, before Cross asked the question that they all knew was coming: " So, what do you guys think of the general, and his apprentice?" The group glanced at one another, looking uncomfortable. This topic was unknown territory for the squad, since they'd only had experience with one Jedi before.

"Well, they don't seem as bad as the old general" volunteered Dagger, Jag had to agree. The battalions last general had treated the clones as products, and wasted men without listening to advice from the commander or any of the other men. "I noticed that the new commander, the generals apprentice, made a point of introducing herself" the others nodded. Tor, piped up as well "The general doesn't seem half bad either. Might not have asked our names, but at least he had the decency to speak with us" Again, the others nodded.

While cautious about their new Jedi, they could hope for the best. Besides, it wasn't like they could say :'sorry, but we don't want these Jedi, could you send us some others?' And they didn't have it half as bad as the commander. It was his duty to wait on the two Jedi hand and foot if need be. All the normal troopers had to do was nod and carry out orders, like good little enough.

Conversation in the mess ceased abruptly, and looking to the entrance, Jag saw the reason. The general, commander Starsong, and the commander had entered the room. Drakes' helmet was on, concealing his face, but by his body language, one hand opening and closing nervously. Some of the troopers were out of their seats, looking to their commander for orders. Their previous general had expected the troopers to snap to attention. Master Adraxis put their concerns to rest "at ease, gentlemen" he said, smiling gently.

The men in the mess hall relaxed slightly, returning to their meals. The fact that the two new officers had chosen to eat among the troops, said that they at least respected them. 'Interesting...I wonder if they know it's little things like this that we remember'. Thought Jag, forking more half-defrosted steak into his mouth.

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Drake could barely control his hands. He managed to keep them from trembling only by clenching and unclenching them. It helped that his helmet was still in place, concealing his facial scars. The scars that he'd gotten when several near hits had melted part of his helmet, scarring his right cheek and jaw, almost up to the eye. He'd dismissed Sharp and River after the initial tour of the destroyer. It didn't look like they were in the mess hall, which meant they were probably relaxing in the barracks.

Unfortunately, that meant he was alone with two Jedi. Captain Scythe, one of the company leaders, half raised his arm in greeting, before he noticed the two Jedi with Drake. Immediately, the clone lowered his arm, and nearly leapt from his seat in his haste to stand at attention. The general spoke, calmly and pleasantly, as if he'd just walked into a room of his peers. That caught them by surprise.

Drake saw his brothers exchanging uncertain glances, silently asking 'is this guy for real?'Drake had to admit, the way the general and his overly enthusiastic apprentice made their way through the mess hall was much different than he'd ever seen his former general act. They exchanged nods and a few salutes, before picking an open, unoccupied table. He would have liked to just leave, take a shower, and maybe come back later to grab something to eat.

Then, as if reading his mind, the new commander, Starsong, looked up at him and smiled. "Why don't you take a seat, commander?" Drake was thinking of a polite way to refuse her, but the general was watching him, eyebrows lifted in mild curiosity, and a little concern. With a silent curse, he took his seat, sitting across from the pair. Alanna giggled and the generals' eyebrows went up even further, a slight smile on his lips. "You'll have a hard time eating with your helmet on, commander" he said mildly.

_'Fierfek'_ he thought vehemently. As long as his helmet was on, he was safe, it was his own private sanctuary. Plus, no one could stare at his scars if he kept his bucket on. He didn't mind so much when his brothers saw them. He couldn't have prevented that, seeing as he slept in a room with them, and usually didn't bother with a shirt. Women, particularly civilian women, didn't like scars. He wasn't sure about Jedi, whether they cared or not. He hadn't seen many Jedi with scars, so he assumed they didn't either. And he was facing two of them at the moment.

He noticed that his hands were starting to shake again._ 'Just take it off and get it over with, you hut'uun'_ he scolded himself, grabbing his helmet firmly, and removing it. The commander let out a startled gasp, stopping her hand from going to her mouth. The general only nodded, as if something had been made clear to him. He could see the pity in the commanders eyes, and he hated it. He neither needed nor wanted their pity. Neither of them said anything though, just bending their heads to their meals .

He appreciated that. At least they didn't laugh, or sneer, or decide that they didn't want him as battalion commander. He tried to answer the simple questions they had, about the ship functions, or how the battalion worked. He explained things to them, but kept his face down while he spoke. There was no need for him to see the pity in the new commanders eyes again. He moved his tray towards him, grateful for the excuse to avoid eye contact. He could feel Starsongs' eyes burning into the top of his head. "Commander, do you always stare holes into your meal?" Drake found himself grinding his teeth, and wishing the Jedi would eat in silence. "No. Ma'am" he said, glancing up at her. The general kept his mouth shut, and seemed to be enjoying his roba steak a little more than he should.

"So it's just when I'm around?" The kid managed to sound both offended and teasing at the same time. The commanders' head snapped up in surprise. "I-uh, no...ma'am" He said, feeling rather embarrassed. The girl laughed. "Call me Alanna, please, commander. I hope one day you'll tell me your name" Drake glanced up at her, meeting her eyes for the second time since sitting down. "I...see. Alanna." The name sounded foreign in his mouth. The few women he'd been around, hadn't been interested in exchanging names. There weren't any women in the GAR, and she was the first female Jedi he'd met. However, she seemed to find his discomfort...amusing. She laughed with a clear voice, which didn't seem taunting at all.

"Thank you, commander" she said. "I'd appreciate it if you told the rest of the men to call me by my name in the future. It will probably cut down on confusion, during battle" she said. Then she hopped up, and left the table. General Adraxis smiled at Drake, and stood, standing to leave as well. "Enjoy your meal, commander" the older man inclined his head, and turned to follow his padawan. Drake frowned, staring at his half eaten meal. He had reached a conclusion: Jedi, especially young Jedi, were very strange. "Er...you're welcome" he said belatedly to the padawan. He felt the deck under his boots begin to vibrate as the destroyer jumped to hyperspace. He wasn't sure whether to be nervous or eager, now that the 230th was going back into action.


	3. The Past

**A/N: **Okay people, another update for you. I'm going to try to have a chapter up about once or twice a week. However, I am a college student, and I do have a part time job. Which means, real life stab me in the back while I'm working on this. But...anyways, here's another update. Next chapter the 230th goes into battle on Muunilinst (yes, that IS how its' spelled) Just want to thank LongLiveTheClones, and SlySenran408. Their reviews tell me I'm doing _something right. _

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**Chapter Three**

**The Past**

**Aboard the _Justice_**

_"Not all clones are the organic killing machines the galaxy thinks. We feel pain, we mourn our fallen brothers. And we feel anger at their killers"_ - CT-1226/1966 'Cross'

Alanna kept her cheery expression up, until she left the mess hall. Then her face crumpled into a mass of confusion and hurt. The clone commander really was a maelstrom of emotions. Very few of them positive. For the short time she'd spoken to him, he'd oozing fear, and a little anger into the Force. After he'd removed his helmet, she'd also sensed expectation...Of what? Was she expected to recoil in horror? Laugh in his face? True, she'd been shocked by the scars along jaw and cheek. But she'd felt sympathy for the man, rather than scorn or disgust.

Perhaps clones, or this clone in particular, wasn't used to having people feel sorry for him. Although, he looked like he didn't want or need _any ones_' sympathy, especially not a Jedi. Throughout the meal, he had made a point of not looking at or speaking with either master Adraxis or herself. Almost as if he expected to be reprimanded for doing so. The fact that her master hadn't been able to learn anything from others in the squad that had greeted them on Coruscant, spoke volumes to her as well. She wasn't going to pretend she was an expert on clone troopers, or the Grand Army of the Republic.

None of the Jedi were, really. Before the bloody start of the war on Geonosis, Alanna and her master had been on Ithor, among the rainforests of the planet. She hadn't even known there were such things as clone troopers, until the council had contacted Jerik and ordered him back to Coruscant, a month ago. The council had explained about the creation of clones, and the beginning of the war, and what had happened during the past two months. Of course, Alanna had heard about the separatist movement, but to learn that a Sith lord lead it was something far more...worrisome.

She and her master had met other clones, of course. They'd spent some time with the 41st Elite, while they were on shore leave, after the battle of Dinlo. Gree had been nothing but respectful, and had lacked the negative storm that was brewing in the 230ths' commander. If the man would have been a Jedi, she was sure the Jedi council would be looking into his activities, and attempting to steer him away from the dark side. However, he wasn't a Jedi, and as far as Alanna could tell, had no Force powers. "You have a lot on your mind, my apprentice" the young woman nearly leapt out of her skin. She'd been so absorbed in her thoughts, she hadn't noticed master Adraxis approaching.

"Yes, master. I was thinking of our clone commander. He seems...different than the other men" Adraxis nodded, apparently having thought the same thing.

"I've spoken with several other men. The sergeant, Ice, I think his name is, and he is just as reluctant to share any information. At least, not without his superior officers permission first" Alanna frowned. Ice had been polite, even courteous. She'd seen him in an animated discussion with several other sergeants during dinner. "Maybe I should speak with him" at Jeriks' frown, she explained " I'm a commander. You're the general. Perhaps he was intimidated by you. I'm the same rank as his superior just not..well, a clone"

"I see." Jerik replied, sounding both amused and thoughtful. "Very well, Alanna. I'll return to my quarters, and see if I can find anything out about the battle that wiped out an entire company, and a Jedi, we'll meet for the briefing in the war room in an hour" Alanna nodded, and went off to hunt down the sergeant. While she walked the durasteel corridors of the _Justice_, she reflected on master Jerik Adraxis. He was a good man, and she saw him like a father, or perhaps older brother. He'd always been there to look out for her, even when she resented it. Even though it was obvious, that she had...difficulty, controlling her emotions. And understanding the Jedi code. Her master had helped her through several difficult parts of her life, and the two had formed a bond.

Nothing romantic of course. The man was nearly twenty years earlier than her, and neither of them had shown any interest in..._that_. If anything, Jerik was like a permanent fixture in her life. A pillar of strength and comfort. Someone that was there for her to turn to on her worst day._ 'Okay, now I'm just being way sentimental'_ she thought dryly. She was near the mess hall, and she saw several men with green strips on their arms and chest plates. Some had helmets on, and were in full armour, others wore the grey fatigues, with the Republic Bendu on their chests. Ice was one of the men in fatigues, and she approached him, hoping to catch him before he went off to his barracks.

"Ice! Could I talk to you for a minute, please?" Ice froze in place, glancing at his brothers, before looking over his shoulder to regard the padawan approaching him. Alanna was fully aware that the clones towered over her. Every one of them was six feet tall, where as Alanna was five feet. Being smaller than some beings was okay though. That meant they were more likely to underestimate her. And like master Yoda said 'size matters not'. However, she didn't want the sergeant to underestimate her. She just wanted to talk, and perhaps find out what had happened under their last Jedi general.

"Commander!" Ice snapped to attention, and threw a crisp salute. "What can I do for you, ma'am?" Alanna sighed. She supposed it was 'proper military procedure' to salute and call a superior officer by their titles,but she found it rather annoying. She wasn't any better than the troopers. She'd hardly used a lightsabre in combat before! "Alanna, please, Ice. And I just want to talk about some things that happened before master Adraxis and I arrived" immediately, the sergeant shut down. Or clamped down on anything watching her with a pair of ice-blue eyes. The colour of the mans' eyes, if she understood, correctly, was a rare genetic mutation. She thought it added a bit of mystery to the man.

At the moment, it was extremely frustrating. All she wanted to do was talk a little. It wasn't like she wanted him to tell her his deepest darkest secrets or anything. Sighing, she said "this will stay just between you and me, Ice. You can trust me" the sergeant looked...less than convinced, a subtle twist to his lips that made him look like a stern parent about to admonish a child. Finally, he nodded, and gestured for her to follow him. As they continued walking, he glanced down at her. "So. What do you want to know?" Alanna wasted no time " what happened to you guys? Why are you so..." she struggled for the right word, not wanting to offend the man. "Distant?"

Ice chuckled, but their was no amusement in it. "_Distant_ is...an interesting way of putting it, commander" he said. "The men don't care for Jedi, not since the battle a couple of months ago. You're something...new to us, compared to the man we had in command before. We lost a company. We don't forget things like that" it was clear the man would say nothing more. Even if she would have ordered him to, she was certain Ice was done talking. "Well, thank you, sergeant Ice." The man inclined his head.

"Any time, commander Starsong" he said, his voice tightly under control. Clearly, her question had touched a few nerves. She wasn't counting on speaking with the sergeant for a while. At least. Sighing in defeat, she headed to the war room. . Her hour was nearly up, and she could only hope that master Adraxis had better luck in his search for information.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

Drake had finished his meal, and left the mess with the other men, clipping his helmet to his belt. His brothers had already seen his scars, _all_ his scars, in fact. He could see the members of first company making their way to their shifts, wearing full armour, or to the barracks, for some shut eye. He saw Scythe walking with Edge, captains of third and second company respectively. The captain of third excused himself, and lengthened his pace, in order to catch up to him. "Sir" Drake liked Scythe. The man was fair but stern, and made a point of keeping his armour in good shape, and he fought just as hard as his men, if not harder. He didn't ask the troopers under his command to do anything he couldn't or wouldn't do himself.

On his right shoulder bell, a small, black scythe had been painted. "Scythe. You on shift?" His brother nodded. "Yeah. Hangar bay duty. I guess I'll get to make faces at the fighter jockeys' "

"Well, have fun, and behave yourself." Drake guessed the man had something else to say, just by the simple lift of the mans' eyebrows. "There's something else, too. The commander was talking with Ice a little while ago. I don't know what, but he didn't look happy...maybe you should check it out?" Drake frowned. Scythe usually wouldn't pay attention to things that involved first company, unless it might effect his own company. Commander Starsong had every right to talk to the sergeant, if she wanted to, of course.

Protocol dictated that when one officer wished to speak to a trooper under another officers' command, they passed a request onto that mans' commanding officer. Then again, commander Starsong was in charge of the battalion. Under general Adraxis, of course. She didn't seem much for protocol anyways._ 'I'll have to ask Ice what it was all about when I get back to the barracks'_ he thought. Drake thanked Scythe, who turned to the hangar bay, and he continued on his way to the barracks.

"Commander!" Drake turned to see a clone trooper in full armour walking towards him. Not quite sprinting, but clearly on the verge of it. His armour lacked the gold trim of the 230th, on his armour,which meant he was one of the troopers assigned to the_ Justice_. The man stopped in front of him, and threw a salute. "Sir, the admiral sends his regards, and requests that you join him on the bridge at your earliest convenience" Drake sighed. It appeared that he wasn't getting the rest of the night off after all. Before the man could get too good a look at his scars, Drake put on his helmet. "Copy that. I'll head to the bridge straight away."

The trooper hesitated, his body language showing surprise. "I'm sorry sir, I thought you knew. The general, the commander and the admiral are meeting in the war room. Not the bridge" he explained. Drake sighed, and thanked the man. The war room was a level below the bridge proper, and contained a hologram projector, allowing strategy sessions prior to battle. Struggling not to break into a run himself, the commander lengthened his pace. If anything, he hated being late, especially to something as important to a strategy meeting. The door to the room slid open, allowing him entrance. As predicted, the two Jedi and the admiral, Christopher Tendrick, stood around the holo-projector. Admiral Tendrick was known to the clones as fair minded, although he demanded that discipline be observed aboard his ship. Not that discipline was a problem among clone troopers, Drake reflected.

"Commander, how nice of you to join us" drawled the admiral, his grey streaked hair combed neatly, and his bristling grey-brown moustache twitching slightly. With irritation or amusement, Drake wasn't quite sure. "Apologies, sir. I was delayed" the admiral frowned at him, but didn't press the issue. "So, I suppose we should begin?" General Adraxis said, softly, gesturing to the projector. "Of course, general" a moment later, the terrestrial world of Muunilinst appeared hovering over the projector. "Muunilinst. Home to several large droid factories" explained general Adraxis. " Republic intelligence has pinpointed the location of one such factory. It is our goal to destroy it" the admiral pressed a button and the scene changed to show a birds eye view over a large city.

"Hairnaidan" explained the general. "The factory is deep inside the city, and most likely guarded by hundreds of battle droids. We will be launching a simultaneous attack with the 212th battalion under general Kenobi, and the 91st Reconnaissance corps on the city." Drake pondered that information. The 212th were good at what they did. So were the 91st, but, republic intel had drop kicked its' own brains so many times in the past three months, it was hard to take _anything_ they said seriously. "Sir. Do we have a plan of attack?" He inquired, noticing that he was the only one on the bridge wearing a helmet. Besides the two guards by the turbo lift, of course. That was okay. No one had asked or ordered him to remove his helmet, and he didn't intend to. Adraxis nodded, the admiral pressed another button on the remote control, and several blue arrows appeared on the city holo.

"The battalion will engage the droid forces at three separate locations. First company, under commander Starsong will take the right flank. Second company, under myself and the commander here, will take the centre. Finally, third company will move up the left flank. If everything goes to plan, we should meet up at the factory itself" the plan separated Drake from his company, but he didn't mind terribly. Vyre could handle the situation just as well as he could. The general dismissed everyone to get some rest, and Drake left for the barracks. He'd completely forgotten to speak with Ice.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

The briefing ended, and Alanna noticed master Adraxis motioning her off to the side. _'He must have discovered something useful'_ she thought, joining him as he headed for the doors. "Have you discovered something ?" Asked her master, and she grimaced.

"Not as much as I would have liked to. It seems, most of the clones here have a very low opinion of Jedi. I don't think the sergeant will be talking to me any time soon" she reported. Jerik nodded, as if that was no surprise to him. "I think I may know why" he said quietly, and Alanna turned to face him more directly. Her masters usual calm, easy going attitude had been replaced by something grim and hard. "What have you found out?"

Jerik favoured her with another grim look. "Jedi knight Neesh Nok, was the two hundred and thirtieths' commanding officer during the battle of Esson." Alanna had never heard of Esson, but Neesh Nok, she _had_ heard of. "No wonder the clones don't like Jedi, if they were stuck with Nok" she said quietly. Jedi knight Neesh Nok was a Rodian Jedi, that didn't understand the meaning of the word 'humble'. As Jedi went, he was arrogant, selfish, and generally boasted about his own abilities, and pointed out the failings of well, everybody else. Alanna was surprised the council had let him come within a thousand light years of anything resembling a command.

"There's more. Nok had the clones competing against one another. The records don't say what he had them doing exactly, but the medbay has a sudden influx of troops with broken bones in the month he lead the battalion" Alanna felt her stomach twist. Just because the records omitted whatever Nok had the clones do, didn't stop her imagination from coming up with things. Not nice things, either. _'And now I know why the commander hates us. If I was forced to do...things, by someone that was supposed to be a reliable commanding officer, I'd probably hate Jedi too' _


	4. Even the best laid plans

**A/N: **Chapter Four for you. The 230th finally get into some action, though...it may not go so well for them.

Thanks for the continued reviews, guys. And, I'll probably include more details on Neesh Nok and his brief command of the 230th in later chapters.

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**Chapter Four **

**Even the best laid plans...**

**Four months ABG**

_"Loyalty is not given freely. It is earned"_

The _Justice_ came out of hyperspace, and into a massive space battle. Acclamator-class assault ships filled the view ports, exchanging fire with the IGBC gun platforms. V-19 Torrent class star fighters were engaged in dogfights with separatist fighters, filling the void with silent fireballs. The Justice opened up with its' own considerable turbolaser batteries, shattering a gun platform in moments. Drake didn't stop to admire the view offered by the open hangar bays. He was too busy overseeing the loading of troopers onto their designated LAAT/is'. "First company, mount up and move out, escort is already in the air!" He barked, hardly listening to captain Vyres' acknowledgement.

Commander Starsong was the last aboard, one of first companys' ships. The gunships lifted off, and tore towards the planet, their fighter escorts falling into defensive formation around them. "Okay, second company, mount up. We're dusting off in three" inside his helmet, he could hear Edge repeating his orders. Drake felt bad about taking command of the company, but he'd find some way to make it up to the man. "Ready to go, commander" reported Edge, from his place in the lead gunship. General Adraxis was already there, and Drake began making his way towards the ship as well. Once inside, the doors slid shut, sealing the atmosphere inside. Edge nodded at him, and he mirrored the movement.

The gunship shuddered slightly as it left the_ Justices_' artificial gravity. Through the transparisteel slots in the door, Drake could glimpse the Torrents forming up around the gunships._ 'Let's just hope we don't get swarmed'_ the 230th was moving in apart from the 212th and 91st Recons' larties'. If their ships were attacked by the massive amounts of separatist fighters, they'd be out gunned in seconds. With a click of his teeth, he opened the internal helmet comm to his men. "Alright, lads. Keep an eye on your ammo, and watch each others backs out there. Everybody comes home today" the reminder was unnecessary,but the men acknowledged anyways. The general began speaking, then,reviewing the battle plan.

"Our job, is to get to the factory. Once there we'll meet up with the rest of the battalion. Then we destroy the factory. Any questions?" There were none. The men all knew what they needed to do. And they were all ready to do it. The gunship shook, and Drake instinctively reached for the grab rail over his head. Not that it would do him much good if the separatists got lucky. The ship shook again, harder, and more of the troopers grabbed nervously at the rails for some reassurance, and in order to keep their balance. Only the general remained on his feet without assistance, and Drake suspected he was using the Force to remain unmoved. "Pilot! What's going on out there?"

The pilots' voice was slightly strained when he replied " we're approaching the atmosphere. The seps aren't too happy with that" Drake imagined the ship exploding, or being rammed, like on Geonosis. An involuntary tremor snuck into his hands, immediately,he smacked the rising fear . 'Can't panic about the past. Have to remain focused' he reprimanded himself. The gunships doors opened as they entered the atmosphere, and Drake realized the pilots' statement was...more than valid. Flak from anti air cannons shredded the area surrounding the gunship, and it jinked and juked to avoid being blown apart. Below him, the commander could see the buildings of Hairnaidan, one of the more impressive Muun cities on the planet.

Well, it had been impressive, before the war had found it. Now many buildings had been reduced to rubble by artillery fire, and others were burning. "Just a heads up: the landing zone is hot!" Announced the pilot, and the two bubble-turret gunners opened up, their composite beams slicing through the metal that made up B1 battle droid parts. _'Of course the kriffing landing zone is hot'_ thought Drake, wincing as blaster bolt shrieked past his helmet. Someone in robes, and a tan tunic leapt from the descending gunship, lightsabre blazing. Drake cursed, and turned to Edge, who motioned to his men. "Second company, give them hell!" Blue blaster fire rained down on the landing zone, covering the general, and reducing the amount of enemies he had to put up with.

Once the gunship was a metre above the ground, Drake and the others spilled out, several other nearby gunships disembarking the rest of second company. The now empty larties' screamed for space, their pilots pushing the engines to the limit. Besides the occasional burst of anti-air cannons, no enemy pursued the ships. Drake levelled his DC-15s, the shorter, lighter version of the standard DC-15a, and opened fire on the incoming battle droids. The troopers of the 230ths' second company formed into a square formation, the LZ in the centre, with the troopers facing outwards, firing at the separatists. "We need to push forward!" Bellowed the general, over the roar of blaster fire. Drake agreed, knowing that while the troopers may have held off the first wave of droid assault, more were coming, and already five white armoured soldiers lay unmoving on the permacrete.

"You heard the general! Move it!" Ordered Drake, firing into a droid that was slower than he was to fire. The clanker hit the ground hard, and the commander moved forwards, leaving Edge to order his men into formation. The company entered a fairly narrow street, and the droids followed, firing at them. Edge approached Drake and the general "sirs. I recommend we attempt to seal off the street entrance. Otherwise, the droids can storm up behind us and overwhelm our position" Drake scowled, underneath his helmet, at the situation they were in, rather than his brother. "We've got no explosives, Edge. At least, nothing strong enough to take down buildings" he reminded the captain.

The 230th was an infantry unit. That meant explosives were limited to thermal detonators, and EMP grenades. The squads were line squads, rather than specialist squads. The general, however, stepped past the two clones, and examined one of the buildings. " A good plan, captain. Let's get it done" Drake frowned at the Jedi._ 'Perhaps he's losing his hearing..'_ "sir. I said-" the general cut him off with an upraised hand, and glanced back at him. "I know what you said, commander. Leave this to me." Edge looked at him and shrugged, and Drake sighed. The two of them made their way to the rear of the double column Edge had his men moving in, and Drake brought his rifle up as the sound of blaster fire reached him.

Two squads of troopers were attempting to hold off...well, a lot more droids. "Sergeant Den! Sitrep!" Snapped Edge, hunkering down beside some makeshift cover, comprised of heaped up rubble. A clone with a green sergeants markings on his chest plate and arms turned towards them. "What you see is what you get, sir. Massive droid forces pushing in at us. Some_ chakaar_ must have sounded some sort of droid-alert. Jai'galaar went up in one of the buildings to take a look, and he guessed they're coming in from the three nearest sectors" Edge cursed softly, and Drake glanced at one of the troopers, with a likeness of a hawk on his back plate. Clearly,_ mando'a_ was alive and well in second company. "Okay. The general wants to try something. We need to buy him enough time to do it"

Dens' body language showed that he was less than reassured. Given the scumbag their last general had been, Drake didn't blame him. "Okay. I'll tell my men to hold out a little longer, but we're running low on droid-poppers, and I've ordered them to conserve as much ammo as possible" as the sergeant turned to rejoin the fighting, someone started screaming. Turning, the commander saw one of the men down, a blaster hole punched through his lower torso. He was the one screaming. One of his brothers was attempting to drag him to safety. Droids began storming the gap the two men had left. "Plug that hole!" Ordered Edge, opening fire on the first droid through.

"Everyone, get back!" General Adraxis shouted, his voice amplified, most likely through the Force. Drake didn't waste any time considering how, he simply started repeating the order. The two squads pulled back, taking their wounded with them. An ominous rumbling vibrated the permacrete beneath the boots of the clones, and the building on the right side of the street began to fall, leaning in, so that the mass of rubble would effectively seal the street. From about two hundred metres away, Drake,Edge, and the two squads of troopers watched in awe as the building fell, crushing dozens of droids, and sending up a cloud of debris thousands of feet high. "He actually did it...brought down an entire building..." muttered Edge, his voice hushed. The general approached, looking drained, lightsabre dangling limply from his hand, and grinned at them. "Gentlemen. Shall we continue?"

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

Jag knew they were in trouble, as soon as the gunships left. No droids waited for them at the landing zone, nor did they approach as first company made its' cautious way through the streets of the war torn city. They were up at the front, behind captain Vyre and commander Starsong. "Okay, is the lack of droids trying to blast us down to our atoms make anyone else nervous?"

"Shut it, Jag" said Tor, from beside him. The other trooper was tense, to say the least. He scanned the windows and balconies cautiously. Sharp was doing the same on the opposite side of the line, though, his two brothers vigilance simply made him more uneasy. The little commander, Starsong, didn't seem as nervous. Then, she had the Force, where all clones had were their weapons and sensors. Having a weapon that could cut through most metals probably was a major confidence booster as well. "I'm just saying..."

"Cut the chatter" Ice said, in what Jag considered his 'command voice'. Immediately, all conversation stopped. Jag wrapped his hands around his deece, and glanced around, feeling very exposed with towering durasteel and permacrete buildings on either side of them._ 'Perfect for snipers. Or a tank'_ he thought, imagining one of the AATs', an armoured attack tank, hovering down the street, wreaking havoc among the men of first company. Then he realized why he, and the others were so on edge.

Esson. AATs' had decimated the 230ths' fourth company during the battle on the industrial planet. And the city looked alot like the industrial avenues of Esson. 'This is different. Besides, the general hasn't started screaming at us to stop the droids or die trying' alot was different. For one, they weren't going in with AATs' firing all guns at them, they weren't rescuing civvies, and they weren't serving under a general with _osik_ for brains. But he knew what they said, and he'd said it himself, numerous times. Even the best laid plans fell apart after the first shot was fired.

Jag wondered if the 91st Recon had swept through this area. Being a trooper, he didn't get that information unless the sergeants, lieutenants, and the captain decided he should. So far, no one had said anything. Which meant they were going in with little, to no intel, besides what Republic intelligence had told them. "Of course there's a_ kriffing_ droid factory" he muttered. "This is a separatist planet" in his mind, Republic intelligence was brilliant at pointing out the obvious, less brilliant at doing their jobs.

His less than kind reflections about the Republics intelligence service was interrupted by the high pitched whine of a sniper round. Then another. And then another. "Ten is hit!" Someone shouted, and someone else said "Bek is down". Jags' training and instincts took over, just as more sniper fire rained down on them. "Snipers!" That was captain Vyre "trace trajectories and take 'em down!" Jag lifted his rifle, and scanned the buildings for the glint of sun on a sniper scope, or perhaps a glimpse of the rifles long barrel. "I see one!" Announced Sharp, and the rest of the squad followed his pointing, gloved hand to the third story window. Immediately, nine rifles opened up on the window, and the droid collapsed backwards, damaged or destroyed.

"Good one, Sharp. See any more?" Asked Ice, keeping his visor tilted towards the upper buildings.

" Upper balcony, your two o'clock" responded Sharp. Blaster fire claimed another sniper, but hard experience had taught the men of the 230th Battalion, that where there was one droid, there were usually dozens more. This scenario was no different. Battle droids, followed by their bulkier, stronger cousins, super battle droids, stormed down the streets. Commander Starsongs' lightsabre activated, the humming blue blade slapping blaster bolts back towards the approaching droid forces. "First squad, take cover, second squad, move up!" Ordered Vyre, his voice calm and controlled as he fired his own rifled into the ranks of clankers coming towards them.

Second squad was already moving when Jag and the others hunkered down in the rubble. "Pick your targets" said Ice, "I don't think we can afford to waste ammunition" Jag knew the sergeant was right. Droids might not be smart, or particularly threatening, or able to strategize, but that hardly mattered when there were hundreds of the damned things! Jag fired twice into a battle droids chest, slammed his armoured shoulder into a second droid, and fired point blank into that ones bird-like face. He could hear men from second squad screaming as they were wounded, and the soft gasps of dying men._ 'Kriffing tin-cans. Kill my brothers, will you?'_ He felt an uncharacteristic rage come over him as the droids kept coming, marching over rubble, and their own dead, to kill troopers.

Droids didn't feel fear or anger or pain. You couldn't intimidate them like you could an organic army. They didn't need food or water, didn't suffer from low morale. Worse, they were almost completely silent. Except for the monotone orders of droid officers, there was no noise. It was the same with clones, except, they used their internal helmet commlinks to communicate. As far as Jag knew, droids did no such thing. River, kneeling to for better accuracy, took down one of the SBD's that had been tearing into second squad. Then a blaster bolt tore through his shoulder, spinning him around, and sending his rifle clattering across the permacrete. Tor and Dagger leapt up, Tor providing cover fire, while Dagger helped his wounded brother to safety.

"Medic! We need a medic over here!" Dagger was shouting, while other men echoed his shouts. Now the engagement had spread, with more squads moving up to help their brothers. Cross left his position to take a look at Rivers' wound, and Dagger returned to his own firing position. "We won't win a battle of attrition. There are too many of them" sergeant Ice was saying, and Vyre responded with a stream of expletives in_ mando'a_ and Huttesse. "You're right. All squads, pull back, look for side streets" he ordered. Jag glanced up from the barrel of his rifle, and noticed the commander standing in droid parts up to her knees._ 'She knows how to use that lightsabre, I'll giver her that'_ he thought. One of the troopers reported that he'd found something, and Vyre gave the order to fall back.

"Sir!" Jag said, "the commander!" Vyre swore again, and trotted up behind the girl. Apparently, she couldn't hear him, or wasn't listening to the captain. "Sarge, hold up. The commander and the captain are still up there" he reported to Ice, who'd been overseeing the squads retreat. The sergeant turned towards the advancing droids and the clone and Jedi. "Jag, Hazard, with me. We're not leaving them to the droids. We've lost enough brothers already" Hazard left the squad, and trotted over, hefting his rifle. The three clones moved in, opening fire on the closest droids, arriving beside the Jedi and captain Vyre. "Let's go!" Ice shouted, on external speakers. Starsong glanced at him, looked back at the retreating clones and nodded.

Jag grabbed her forearm, and assisted her from the small mountain of droid pieces that had built around her. "Nice job, commander" he said, noticing Vyre moving to cover her as they fell back. Then Hazard cursed, and someone cried out in shock and pain. "Captain's_ down_!" Alanna spun on her heel, her lightsabre batting away several more blaster bolts that had come far too close for comfort. Hazard was hauling the captain over his shoulders in a standard rescuers' carry, and Ice had scooped up Vyres' blaster. "Commander, we need to move" Jag said, blasting a battle droid that was aiming at Hazards' back. She nodded, and the three of them hurried to the side street.

Despite Vyre not moving, and trying to be a good burden, he was still wearing his armour, which weighed about forty kilos' added onto his own body weight. Plus, Hazard had been fighting for the past half hour or so. Now, it was starting to take its' toll on the trooper. He stumbled every other step or so, and his breathing was starting to get ragged. "Hazard, put me down, I can walk" Vyre said, his voice weak and pained. He'd been hit twice, once in the upper torso, another in the thigh. "The kriff you can, sir. I saw where you got hit" growled Hazard. If Hazard was known for anything besides his penchant for getting into dangerous situations, it was his stubborness.

"Trooper..." growled Vyre, sounding annoyed. Jag sighed, wondering if the captain had ever seen Hazard when he was determined. Trying to change his mind was like trying to stop a turbolaser blast. Alanna stopped, turned, and put a hand on Hazards shoulder. "Let me carry him, Hazard" Ice, who'd been leading the group, froze and turned around. His expression was hidden behind his visor, but Jag was guessing it was surprise. Because he was pretty sure his jaw was hanging open. "Commander...I can't let myself be burden for you" Vyre said.

Hazard looked like he had something to say as well, but Alanna cut him off. "Trooper. That was an order. Hand him over, or I'll take him" Hazard shrugged and gingerly lowered his wounded captain. Vyre hissed in pain as he put weight on it. The commander bent, grabbed an arm, and his unwounded leg, and hauled him onto her back. Vyre grunted in surprise, and Hazard laughed. "Impressive, ma'am. Really impressive" the small girl smiled at him. "It's nothing, trooper. Now, let's move before the droids catch up with us, okay?"

"No objections here, commander" Ice replied, and the group set out again. Jag could hear the metallic crunch-crunch of marching droids approaching at an unhurried pace. Then, droids never seemed to be in a rush to go anywhere. "I see them" reported Hazard, pointing. At first, Jag thought his squad mate meant he'd seen droids, but then realized he was pointing ahead, towards a building that was still standing. A pair of white armoured troopers stood guard. They entered, and Cross approached, from where several other medics worked on their brothers. He helped the commander set Vyre on the ground, and began removing his armour. "You did good getting him here when you did, ma'am" the medic said. Jag removed his helmet, and glanced around, noticing that the troopers had erected small barricades, and that the droids hadn't yet arrived. It appeared they were safe, for now


	5. The Small Things

**Chapter Five **

**The small things**

_It's the small things that count_

**Muunilinst**

Alanna Starflare groaned and stretched. She didn't regret helping the troopers, but it took had taken more effort to lift and carry him than she'd thought. Even with the Force taking some of the load. The Jedi was probably half a troopers weight when they were out of armour. With the armour on...well, she didn't want to guess at how large the difference was. Taking a seat on a chair that wasn't too beaten up, she closed her eyes. She could feel the pain of wounded men, and hear the soft words of the medics as they worked on them. She supposed that it was a good thing that the soldiers felt safe enough to remove their helmets.

Or they were so tired they just didn't care any more. Alanna knew she was tired, her legs and arms felt like pieces of metal that had been welded onto her body. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she realized she had a painful welt on her right cheek, where a blaster bolt had passed too close. Her robes and tunic were covered in scorch marks, from additional bolts, but a wardrobe change was the least of her worries. The soldiers under her command, had been caught by an ambush that she should have sensed. True, droids were slightly more difficult to sense in the Force than organics, but it was something she'd learned at an early stage of her apprenticeship to master Adraxis.

_'Stupid of me. I try to earn their respect, and instead, end up getting them killed'_ she opened her eyes, and watched as troopers shared their colourless ration bars and bottles of water. Many were standing, but a few sat or lay on the floor, leaning against each other, or the walls of the building. Some were sleeping, others were talking softly, and still others simply sat staring at nothing in particular, looking pale and drawn. One group of four clones in particular sat away from the others, facing inwards. Grief and...guilt were coming off of them in waves. Alanna frowned, wondering why the troopers would feel guilty. Grief she could understand, they'd just lost friends and brothers in the battle, but guilt...

She felt someone approaching, and turned to see one of the troopers, Jag, she recalled, walking towards her, a water bottle in his hand. He held the bottle out, and she accepted, only then realizing how thirsty she'd become. She moved to return it, but Jag declined it and took a seat on a chair that looked slightly more beat up than hers, but still functional. The two of them sat in silence for a few moments, and Alanna took the opportunity to examine the building the troopers had taken refuge in. It had a high ceiling, with light panels that had gone dark,since power was no longer supplied to the building. It was long as well, with the double transparisteel doors where the troopers had entered, and about two or three hundred metres at the end of the room, a turbolift, that lead to the other floors.

Most of the one hundred and something troopers were inside, except for the dozen or so sentries in front of the building. She wondered idly what the building had been used for before the war had come to Muunilinst. 'An assembly hall? An apartment?' Alanna knew very little about Muuns' in general, besides the fact they were excellent bankers.

Jag broke the silence, nodding towards his fellow troopers. "Your first battle?" She nodded. Speech seemed to be coming a little hard for her. "You did good. Kept your cool, and held your own against an _osik_ load of droids. Not everyone could have done as well as you did" Alanna smiled sadly at the trooper. "Thanks, Jag, at least I did _something_ right" the clone glanced at her, looking a little surprised. Not wanting to launch into a tirade of self-pity, she nodded at the four isolated troopers. "Who are they?" Jag turned to look as well, and frowned.

"All that's left of fifth squad. Poor buggers" another pang of guilt pierced her. She didn't know much about how clones were organized, but she did know a squad was made up of nine men. _'My ignorance cost those men five brothers' _

"Why do they feel so...guilty?" She asked, Jag pursed his lips, possibly wondering how to explain. "It's called survivors' guilt. Those men survived, their brothers didn't. They think it should have been the other way around"

"Maybe I should talk to them..." she trailed off, seeing Jag was already shaking his head.

"Won't do any good, commander. Trust me" his mild expression darkened, and his fingers strayed to the jagged scar on his face.  
"I just...feel like I should be doing something. Not sitting around waiting for the droids to find us" she explained. The clone trooper nodded, and looked around, before saying "you should try to get some rest, but if you're determined to do something, go talk to the medics. They'd probably be grateful for your help" she nodded, thanked the man, and headed towards several clone troopers worked on a dozen or so wounded soldiers.

She recognized Cross as one of the medics, working on a trooper that had several blaster wounds across his upper chest. The troopers face was pinched and white with pain, and the man sighed as Cross smeared bacta on the wounds, and proceeded to wrap the soldiers torso with bandages. Beside that man, was captain Vyre, who looked more annoyed than pained, as if being shot was only a minor inconvenience, that kept him from doing his job. He propped himself up on his elbows, and Alanna realized he intended to stand. "Captain, please lay still, you're injured" she said, motioning for him to remain where he was.

The man snorted, and gestured to the bacta patch that was covering the wound on his ribs. "This? This is nothing. Just get me a pain-killer, and I'll be good to go" he directed the last part of his sentence at Cross, narrowing his eyes, daring his subordinate to disobey him. The medic didn't seem perturbed by his superiors gaze. "Liar." The medic said, shoving Vyre back down as he tried to struggle into an upright position once more. "If that round would have been a little lower and to the left, it would have punched through your lungs. So lie still or I'll give you a sedative and put you out. Lieutenant Dren is doing fine in your place" Cross gestured across the room, where a clone in full armour with rank markings identifying him as a lieutenant stood, giving orders to unwounded troopers.

Vyre attempted to get up a third time, and Alanna used to Force to hold him down. "Captain, you're wounded, and you won't heal properly running around. So lie still and listen to Cross. That's an_ order_ " the captain sighed, and slumped in defeat, grumbling to himself. The medic straightened from the man he was working on, and turned to her. " Thanks, ma'am. The captain tends to forget his limits, and then he ends up hurting himself" he finished the sentence with a stern glare at Vyre. "Is there something I can help you with, commander?"

"Actually," she said, "I was wondering if _I_ could help_ you_, Cross" the medic looked surprised, and then thoughtful.  
" I suppose you could help with the wounded. There's only about three more to do, and I need to report to the lieutenant." Alanna frowned, noticing that the mans' count was off. In one corner of the medics' section of the building, she noticed at least five more men laying on the hard ground. She pointed "what about them?" She inquired, and felt defeat and exhaustion emanate from the clone.  
"We've done all we could for them but..." Cross trailed off, and shook his head, lips forming a grim line.  
"I...see" she said, feeling her heart sink to her toes. She received the bandages, bacta salve, and bacta patches from the medic, who showed her how to tie the cloth properly, and how to craft a sling for injured arms.

She went from man to man, applying patches and salve where necessary, crafting slings and tying bandages. After she'd sufficiently patched up the third man, out of the five minor to moderately wounded clones, she approached those that couldn't be helped. Several clones sat around their dying brothers, and as she approached, silently moved aside to make room for her. She knelt by the first man, noting that a grenade had torn apart most of his abdomen, and met the mans' eyes. "Thirsty" he rasped. Without hesitation, she placed the bottle of water that Jag had lent her to his lips, and he drank deeply. "Thank you" the dying man managed, his voice slightly stronger. Alanna repeated the process with the other four men, sometimes they just wanted to hold her hand or talk to her. Sometimes they switched from basic to what she thought must have been mandalorian. She sat with them until their presences blinked out, one by one.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

"Any word from first or third companies?" Inquired the general, looking worried, and pacing up and down in front of Drake. The commander shook his head, and replied "no, sir. I don't know if the droids are jamming us, or if third and first companies are just too busy to check in" Adraxis nodded, as if he'd been expecting the news. "I can sense Alanna. She's safe, which means first company is probably out of the fighting for now" Drake hoped so. If first company had been hit half as hard as second, they'd be in no position to continue the battle. Third company had probably been attacked as well. Scythe was punctual, and he knew that the deadline for the assault on the factory was past due. The only way the captain of third company would miss checking in on time was if he was busy fighting, or dead.

Of course, it could simply be that the droids had set up a communications jammer somewhere in the the city, and were stopping the troopers from communicating with one another. Unlikely though, unless it had a very small radius of blocking. Drake could still connect to the command net, and contact the _Justice _if he needed to. The commander checked his rifle, and then glanced up at the cityscape in front of him. Buildings were still burning, but the _whump-whump-whump _of the SPHA units had stopped. That was either meant they'd been destroyed, or the droids had surrendered. He suspected the former option was much more likely, as the droid patrols second company had encountered so far had attacked on sight. The company had managed to find a protected area in what had been high rise building. Now it was simply a heap of rubble, that provided shelter from the droid patrols, and an improvised base of operations.

Drake, captain Edge, and general Adraxis were on the top of the rubble hill, while the rest of the company had shifted rubble to make a small wall, that provided cover from attacking droids. "With all due respect, general, if we stay here, the droids will catch up to us" Drake told the man. He was uneasy sitting on a pile of rubble. It made him feel like a target, and he'd never enjoyed feeling like a target. Adraxis nodded, and motioned for the two clone officers to follow. "I know that, commander. However, attempting to take the factory without the support of both first and third company, will lead to more deaths." Drake paused, surprised at the mans' response. There was no questioning that Adraxis and his overly friendly apprentice were different from Neesh Nok, but, he hadn't expected a Jedi to come up with a response like that.

Then again, he had risked his life bringing down a building on the droids. And he'd deflected several blaster shots away from clone troopers, when he could have done nothing. Already, the comms were buzzing with praise for the man. Seeing a building come down on droids that were doing their best to kill you did wonders for morale. Drake didn't discourage the conversation, and neither did Edge, and the commander was starting to have his own doubts about the Jedi. That didn't mean he liked them, but he owed the general at least a little respect for saving the lives of his men. But only a little.

Edge stiffened, then turned to Drake, and he felt his own shoulders begin to tense up. The captain tapped the side of his helmet, indicating there was something worth hearing. Switching to helmet-to-helmet comms, he asked "what is it?"  
"The artillery, it's confirmed that it's just been taken out" Drake felt his jaw drop. He hadn't actually seen all of the SPHA's being deployed, but by the pounding they'd given the city, their numbers had to have been in the dozens. "_All _of them?" Edge nodded.  
"Some bounty hunter, and about twenty IG-lancer droids. Took out the troopers guarding them, and used thermal dets' to take out the artillery." Drake shook his head, appalled by the sudden turn in the battle. Without artillery support, the whole battle would go to _osik _fast.

He turned to give the general a situation report. "Sir-" but Adraxis was already lifting a hand to stop him, frowning.  
"I just sensed something big happening near the entrance to the city...the artillery?" He looked to Drake who nodded. The Jedi knight's face paled, and he drew his lightsabre. " Then our time is up. We'll have to punch through and try to destroy the factory ourselves."  
"Yes, sir" Drake replied, relieved to be on the move again. Even if it was because they're chances of getting the job done had been cut in half. Edge was already giving orders, and troopers were forming into their squads, and platoons, using clearing away the droids with blasts of rifle fire and the occasional grenade.

They clambered over the rubble wall, and moved forwards. Drake noted that they were encountering fewer and fewer droids._ 'Either they're all up at the front line, behind us, or they've caught on to our plan' _the commander knew which way he wanted to bet. He decided that he should give the other companies a heads up. They probably had already guessed the artillery was gone, but there was no way they'd know second company was moving in on the factory. "All companies: This is CC-1223/1993. We have lost artillery support, and are unable to await your arrival. Second company is advancing on the factory objective. Rally point is set there. Out"

He hoped the men from his two other companies were still alive to hear his orders. _'Don't be an idiot. They can take care of themselves without you watching their every move' _he told himself sternly. Both Scythe and Vyre knew how to keep their men alive and fighting, plus Vyre had a Jedi with him. That had to count for something.

The streets were still deserted, up until the company reached the droid factory. The thing was huge, with a gaping maw of an entrance, that looked like whole armies could march out of. _'Maybe they do' _he thought, gripping his deece tighter. Someone whistled "they sure do make them big. Makes you wonder what they're compensating for" the troopers laughed among themselves. Adraxis was approaching, lightsabre in his hand, but not yet activated. "It'll draw too much attention if the entire company goes in. We need a squad at the most." The general announced. That didn't make Drake terribly optimistic about his odds, but he nodded anyways.

"Edge: pick some men and follow." The captain nodded, turned and picked out a squad of troopers. All of them had thermal detonators in addition to the droid-poppers. The general nodded, satisfied, and lead them down a side street. The rest of the company continued towards the factory, engaging the droid sentries. Beside the great mouth of the main entrance, was a smaller door, probably for organic staff, that oversaw the production of droids. This was the door that Adraxis had picked out, the ignition of his lightsabre drowned out by the fire fight raging only metres away. He cut apart the durasteel portal and stepped inside first. Drake followed, entering the giant.

The corridor was dimly lit, almost as if it was emergency lighting. Drake realized that it was so dim because only one in three light panels were active. _'Enough for an organic to see by. Probably conserving power for the buildings main function: creating droids' _ he couldn't shrug off the feeling of being very vulnerable. Then again, he'd have to be an idiot _not _to feel a little nervous inside a factory that was building droids to kill clones. Plus, the hallway was too narrow for more than one man. Walking single file with no cover to either side of him had Drake in a bad mood. Knowing that after the general, he was going to be the next target, if say, a few dozen droids were waiting at the end of the corridor, didn't improve matters.

"Stinks in here" muttered one of the troopers. The commander had to agree that it stank like lubricant, and smoke, and other things that he wasn't familiar with. "Well, now you'll have something to remember this place by" retorted someone else, which brought on another round of chuckles. They reached the end of the corridor, which had another door. This one, however, wasn't locked, and opened when the general activated the control panel. The hallway opened up into a larger room. A room that was currently, filled with battle droids, easily a dozen of them. "Oh, _kriff_" growled Drake. Adraxis' lightsabre _snap-hissed_ to life, and the man was in the room, decapitating one droid in a smooth, practised motion.

Neither Drake nor Edge needed to tell the men behind them to hurry. As soon as he entered the room, he opened fire, and moved to the right, away from the door. His shots hit a droid in the torso, sending it to the durasteel floor. Edge had stepped to the left, and was mirroring him. The general was in the centre of the room, batting blaster bolts away from himself and several troopers that had taken up position beside him. Drake heard the hiss as a pair of bolts missed his head, and struck the wall instead, leaving small, smoking craters. The pair of battle droids responsible for trying to blow his head off stood side by side, at the opposite end of the room. Drake returned fire, taking down one of clankers, but the second had its' blaster centred on the commanders chest.

"_Down_!" Drake reacted without thinking, throwing himself flat, just as the droid fired and something round soared over his head. He hugged the durasteel floor, and then jerked his head up, aiming his DC-15S one handed, ready to continue the fight. The droid that had shot at him was still jerking on its' feet, sparks erupting from its' joints and wiring as the EMP grenade that a trooper had thrown over Drake burnt out its' circuits. He pushed himself to his feet, noticing that the rest of the droids had been put down. He turned to the trooper behind him, and nodded. "Good throw. What's your name, trooper?"

Drake didn't need the man to remove his helmet to know that he was grinning, when he replied "Toss, sir" the general approached, frowning at something. Drake wondered what had gone wrong: none of the men were injured, and to his knowledge, the droids hadn't managed to sound an alarm. Then he realized the Jedi was frowning at _him._ The commander was getting ready to ask what the mans' problem was, when the Jedi pointed at Drakes' shoulder. "Commander, you're wounded." He turned and glanced at his shoulder, and noticed that the plastoid was darkened where the bell of his shoulder armour curved. He shrugged, testing the wound. It hurt, but nothing important had been hit, and he could still lift his rifle. "Nothing too bad, general. I'll have it checked out when we're done here" Adraxis nodded, and turned to leave the room, Edge on his heels.

The room emptied onto a walkway, with hand rails to either side. _'I'm sure the droids appreciate worker safety' _he thought sarcastically, then glanced down. And wished he hadn't. It turned out, most of the factory was subterranean. Or at least, the conveyor belts that carried droid parts ready for assembly were. "The control room should be just up ahead. Feel free to set your explosives once we cross this walkway" ordered the general.

"Keep an eye out for anything important looking" advised Edge. The twelve men moved quietly, wary of setting off an alarm, and calling more droids down on them. Support pillars were prime targets, as were conveyor belts higher up. By the time they reached the control room, half the troopers had planted their detonators, set to explode in ten minutes. Adraxis went straight to the command console, and began typing in various commands. "Plant the rest of your explosives here. I'm going to shut it down, but we need to stop the Muuns from coming in and reactivating the place" Drake watched, fascinated. He knew a little about slicing, but he'd never really applied himself to it. Adraxis, however, seemed to be an expert, bypassing firewall with the ease of a general caught Drake watching and flashed a smile "the awards of a misspent youth" he replied to the commanders unspoken question. Then he frowned. "Wait...they're's a prototype on here...some new device, designed to make droids more efficient. Not yet being manufactured..."

Drake stepped up to the mans' side. He knew anything that made droids more efficient was bad for his brothers. "Can't you delete the schematics?" Adraxis grimaced and shook his head. "Not from here. Needs a master code, which I don't have" he removed a datacard from his belt and plugged it into the console. He typed in a few more commands, initiating a download. A couple of minutes later, something on the screen turned green, and the general withdrew the card, setting it back in his belt pouch. "For safe-keeping" he said, and turned for the door. "Is everything set?" Edge gave him the thumbs up.  
"Eight minutes, general" the squad ran for the exit.

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**A/N: Hey guys, very sorry it took me so long to get this up, but like I said- College+Work+Real life=No time to write. **

**Hope you enjoy this one though! And as always, feel free to review. **


	6. Boom

**Chapter Six**

**Boom.**

_"If we don't protect the innocent, no one will" - _Clone Captain Edge

Alanna left the dead troopers shortly after their brothers did. As they departed, each of them gave her a short nod of respect. _'I wish I'd gained their respect without having men die' _she thought, feeling a suspicious wetness gathering at the corners of her eyes. She wiped at them furiously, knowing that her master wouldn't approve of the open show of emotion. Or, at least the Jedi council would. Deciding to leave the wounded men to themselves, she made her way through the men, most of them sprawled out on the permacrete floor, getting what rest they could. She approached the pair of chairs where Jag still sat, stepping over several men sprawled in the way. Once she was within a couple of meters, of the trooper, Jag stirred and opened his eyes. "Commander" he greeted her, nodding and getting to his feet.

She hesitated, wondering if clones were a little psychic. She'd been making very little noise, and yet Jag looked as if he'd heard her coming from across the room. "Jag. Were you actually sleeping?" The clone trooper looked a little puzzled.  
"Well, that's what I thought I was doing. What did you think I was doing?" he asked as he got up and stretched. She handed him his water bottle back, and he replaced it on his belt. "I'm just surprised what a light sleeper you are" she commented,and the clone grinned at her, before placing his helmet on, turning himself once more into an intimidating, white armoured soldier.

"Heads up, ma'am. Lieutenant Dren incoming" Alanna turned to see the man with lieutenants rank bars on his chest striding towards her. He too had his helmet on, and was emanating seriousness. He saluted smartly, and reported "ma'am, commander Drake has reported in. Second company is ready to move." Alanna glanced over at the wounded. "What about them?" One of the clones, River, she thought he was called approached. He was one of the walking wounded, one of the men that hadn't been seen to by the medics yet. "We'll take care of them, commander" he assured her, and though she wasn't happy with leaving the wounded men behind, she couldn't exactly drag them along. Especially if they were going into a battle.

"Okay, lieutenant. Lead the way" the clone turned on his heel, and strode towards the doors. That was when Alanna came to the conclusion, that no matter how fast she walked, there was no way she could keep up with a clone in a hurry. Not without using the Force, anyways. The other troopers were moving slightly slower, keeping pace with, but not passing her. She wasn't sure if they felt bad for their small commander, not being able to keep up with them, or if it was out of respect. All she could sense from the dozens of white armoured soldiers was a sense of duty, mixed in with a little anger. The clones wanted vengeance for their fallen brothers. The Jedi code prevented her from feeling the same way, but she didn't hold the clones emotions against them.

Alanna knew she'd never been the best at controlling emotions, despite master Adraxis' patience with her. Still, she strained to be the best Jedi she could, even if it was painfully hard sometimes. Like now. Not being able to show more than an iota of emotion at the deaths of soldiers whose lives had ended under her command. Glancing around, she realized how _quiet _it was. No droids, no blaster fire, and even the thunder of artillery had fallen silent. The clones, she'd learned, communicated via helmet-to-helmet comms, when they wanted to. The only sounds she could hear were the clicking and clacking of armour plates, and the heavy tread of boots on the permacrete.

She found her hand straying to her lightsabre, and glancing around more than she should have. The clones didn't seem remotely distracted by the absence of noise. They were staring straight ahead, their black, T-shaped visors obscuring their facial expressions. She noticed a trooper with sergeants markings on his chest plate, behind her and to the left. She slowed down, allowing the sergeant to lengthen his pace, and walk beside her. "Sergeant 's going on?" Privately, she wondered if the sergeant was still upset with her impromptu interrogation aboard the _Justice. _She didn't sense any resentment or anger in the man when he replied "we've lost our artillery units. The commander's given the order to move in on the droid factory. Don't know much more than that, ma'am"

Alanna thanked the sergeant, and reached out with the Force. Her abilities were nothing that would be classified as 'amazing', but she was familiar with her masters' aura in the Force, and could read his feelings and get a vague sense of what he was doing. Right now, her master was alarmed, but focused, occasionally drawing on the Force. _'Fighting, most likely.' _She thought, placing her hand on her lightsabre. Eventually, as they drew closer to the droid factory, she could hear the sounds of battle, and feel men fighting and dying. The lieutenant in charge must have said something on the closed helmet links, because the troopers immediately formed into their squads, and surged forward at a jog. She unclipped her weapon from her belt and joined them, hoping they weren't too late to assist her master and the clones following him.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

If Alanna heard only the sounds of armour plates and booted feet pounding the ground, Jag and every other trooper in the company heard the opposite. His helmet was filled with the controlled chaos of men speaking to one another, sergeants giving orders, and the reports coming in from troopers of second company. It didn't sound good. Second company had been pinned in various positions around the factory, by droid reinforcements, and were doing their best to hold out until the general and a squad of troopers that had gone inside the factory to de-commission it returned.

Jag had no illusions that it would be an easy battle. First company would bolster the others, but they weren't without their own casualties. The company had lost twelve men , five too wounded to move around, and several walking wounded. No one had heard from captain Scythe or his company since landing. Jag doubted they'd been wiped out. Some of the men in third company _scared _him with their intensity. He wouldn't have been surprised if the troopers had simply removed their helmets and melted the droids to slag with their glares. First company and second companies didn't have that benefit. _'Oh well, blasters and grenades work just as well' _he thought, patting his deece fondly.

"Kinda creepy" muttered Tor  
"What is?" Asked Dagger, sounding irritated. Dagger always got irritable when he was about to go into battle.  
"This silence. Anything would be better" the other trooper replied. Jag realized that when he ignored the comm chatter, the streets were completely silent, besides the distant sound of blaster fire, and the clatter of troopers in motion. "We'll be hearing plenty of noise soon. Check your gear" Storm said quietly.  
"Bring 'em on. A few clankers don't scare me" growled Hazard. Jag sighed, and rolled his eyes. _'Well, I guess we needed one psychopath in the squad. Wouldn't be complete otherwise...' _

"Sharp. You ready to set up?" Sergeant Ices' voice broke into the comms. Sharp was the only one in the squad that used the heavier, longer DC-15A. Despite the added weight, the weapon was more accurate, and Sharp was the closest thing the squad had to a sniper. "Yes, boss. I'll cover you from one of the buildings" the man replied. Jag felt a little better with the man keeping an eye on him.  
"Hazard, Storm, make sure no tin cans creep up on him."  
Hazard groaned.  
"Yes,sir" replied Storm dutifully.

Hazard hated staying out of the action, even if it meant he'd only be twenty or thirty metres away. Then Jag realized that his sergeant had just returned from talking to the commander. Despite it being none of his business, he asked "say, boss, weren't you just talking with the commander?" Ice, now returned to the squad, nodded. "Just giving her a report on the situation"  
"Er...shouldn't the lieutenant have done that? He asked. The sergeant shrugged, his body language indicating embarrassment.  
"It's Dren. What do you expect?" Lieutenant Dren was...less than enthusiastic about the Jedi. Which would explain why he'd given the orders on the helmet links, instead of out loud so the commander could hear him.

Jag wasn't sure what to think of that. The lieutenant was a good man, but he could be cold and was as flexible as durasteel when it came to his personal beliefs. The mans' voice cut into the squads private channel, his voice clipped, formal, and precise "this is lieutenant Dren. All units, form into squads and engage the enemy" Jag checked his rifle, was satisfied that it still had enough ammo to carry him through a firefight, and picked up his pace. Storm, Sharp and Hazard branched off, keeping near the buildings, searching for a suitable snipers perch.

The roar of blaster fire slammed into him like a wave. The 230ths' second company was giving as good as it got, despite the fact that droids outnumbered them two to one. Arriving at the open area in front of the droid factory, Jag noticed that some troopers had taken sniping perchs on several nearby buildings, and were hammering waves of B1 battle droids that were attempting to overrun their brothers on the ground. Jag shuddered as he noticed several dwarf spider droids among the ranks of clankers. Jag _hated _spider droids, perhaps because of the unerring way they tracked down their targets, or their glowing, red photo receptors.

The men of first company filtered into the gaps left by second companies squad. Jag noticed Tor on his right, Dagger on his left, both of them firing already at the waves of beige coloured droids. Jag opened fire himself, the blue plasma bolts slamming the tin can off its' feet. "Watch the left," Dagger said, "super battle droids" Jag shifted his aim, and flinched as the grey coloured droids, with bulky upper bodies, and thin legs approached, absorbing blaster fire like sponges absorbed water.

"Oh, I hate these guys..." muttered Jag, concentrating fire on the things chest. He would have gone for a headshot, except the _kriffing_ things' head was embedded into the rest of its' body. "Spider moving up the flank" reported Tor, and Cross and Ice turned with the trooper to deal with the four legged droid. Finally, the super that Jag had been wasting plasma on collapsed forwards, smoking. Of course, there was another dozen of the blasted things ready to take its' place. Before the second SBD could open up with its' twin-linked wrist blasters, several shots hammered into it from above. Apparently, Sharp had been paying attention.

"Make sure they don't punch through the centre" warned Ice. Troopers from different squads heard him, and one of the other sergeant, Jag thought his name was Nix, replied "don't worry, Ice. We've got these _chakaare _stopped. Just keep them off our backs" Jag found himself grinning, despite the waves of battle droids marching towards him and his brothers. He liked Nix. Not only was the man confident, he tended to instil a sense of confidence in those around him as well.

Jag lobbed a droid popper into the crowd, the electronic blast shorting out the circuits of several battle droids. The supers, of course, simply shook in place, and then continued firing. "Well...that didn't work" he growled, dodging a missile that nearly tore off his head. He glanced up at an increase in explosions and blaster fire. "I think it's safe to say third company is here" Tor said, blasting another droid. It was obviously true, as more droids turned to face their most recent attackers.

Third company tore through the droids like a hot blade through butter. Technically, droids couldn't be taken off-guard, but they could be outflanked. That's what Scythe and his men had done, rounding the factory, and smashing into the separatists' right flank. Since most of the dwarf spider droids, and super battle droids had pressed forwards, to bolster the smaller, frailer B1 battle droids, their rear and flanks were almost completely unguarded.

The super battle droids turned one way, then another, and despite their higher processing power, they couldn't decide which company of clone troopers to attack. Which meant, they spent more time trying to figure out what to attack, and less time killing Jags' brothers. "Push them towards the factory." Lieutenant Dren ordered, his voice the same precise, clipped tones it had been when they'd been moving in on the factory. The three companies met up among the wreckage of droids. Exhausted soldiers, some of them with minor wounds, some of them on the permacrete, not moving at all. Others had medics looking them over. Now that the fighting was over, the medics could concentrate solely on looking after their wounded brothers.

Captain Scythe, identified by the black scythe on his shoulder bell, and the captains' bars on his chest plate, approached, and was saluted by lieutenant Dren. The lieutenant from second company, Jag thought his name was Tal, saluted as well. The captain looked from lieutenant to lieutenant, before asking "where are Edge and Drake?" Before anyone could answer, Alanna stepped forwards, and motioned towards the cavernous mouth of the droid factorys' entrance.  
"In there. Somewhere" she replied. Jag felt his jaw drop in surprise. Scythe had been talking on the inter-helmet comms, which meant there was absolutely no way the commander could have heard him.

Scythe turned, and saluted. "Commander. Didn't see you there" Jag wondered if it was contempt in his brother clones' voice, or the usual drawl that he'd developed. Third companies first squad spread out behind their captain, and he noticed that one of them was cradling his arm. Most of the right side of his chest plate and shoulder were blackened by scorch marks. If the man was in pain, he didn't show it in his body language. _'Captain Vyre is tough, but Scythes' boys are just...crazy' _Jag was no weakling, but if he'd have been injured like that, he wouldn't have been standing so casually. Plus, Cross would have had him med-evaced in a second. The man looked like he'd taken a pain killer, and was simply waiting for a medic to check him out.

"Do we go in after them?" Scythe was asking, pointing towards the place. Alanna shook her head.  
"I don't think so. They're heading towards the exit as we speak. Going in after them would just complicate things"  
the captain of third company simply inclined his head. He might be disciplined, but he had as much love for Jedi, as the rest of the clones had for Kaminoans. "Understood, ma'am" the captain said, saluting again, and returning to his men. Scythe might not have liked Jedi, but he was too disciplined to do anything but what his training had ingrained in him.

"How exactly is the commander planning on taking down the factory?" Asked Hazard, approaching from one of the buildings, with Sharp and Storm trailing behind. "He doesn't have any heavy explosives"  
captain Edges' second, lieutenant Tal, stepped forward. "Some of the men with thermal detonators went in with the commander. Not the best solution, but if placed in the proper location, they should be able to cause massive damage"

Hazard nodded, silent once more. The others milled about the area, setting up a perimeter guard to watch for more droids, the commander had begun pacing back and forth. She looked...worried. Jag had only ever seen Neesh Nok worried a couple of times, but the trooper knew that if a Jedi was worried, clones should be on the verge of panic. He noticed several of the troopers nearest her were shooting the girl nervous glances. Jag wasn't holding up much better. _'What does she know that we don't? Is she sensing something in the Force, or does she just have a bad feeling?' _He wondered.

"Hey." Tor said, sounding surprised and a little annoyed. "Can anyone else make contact with the commander?" Jag didn't need to ask if his brother meant commander Starsong. He switched to helmet comms and attempted to contact the commander. A wave of static flooded into his ears and he swore. "_Shab_! Why would the Seps put a comms jammer in their own kriffing factory?" He growled, switching back to the squads frequency.  
"Good question" the sergeant said, puzzled, and a little concerned, as well. "But you heard commander Starsong. Nobody goes in. I'm sure Drake and the others can take care of themselves"

Jag had been about to reply, when one of the men shouted "the commander!" He spun around to see the young Jedi dashing into the factory entrance. Whatever she'd sensed must have been bad. Or she'd just gone insane. "First squad, form up and-" before Ice could finish giving his orders, another trooper, one of the perimeter guards reported "more droids inbound" Jag heard someone swearing on the comms, and he reloaded his rifle. It looked like they wouldn't be dashing off after the commander after all.

xxxxxxXXXxxxxxx

The eleven clones and one Jedi made their way quickly but cautiously through the walkways that made up the majority of the upper levels of the factory. "Five minutes" Edge reminded everyone, and even though the captains' voice was calm and collected, Drake knew he must be feeling the rising levels of tension. Thermal detonators only had an explosive radius of about five metres, the explosion would send support beams and walkways crashing to the factory floor. The blast inside the control room would make the place nearly unusable, destroying critical equipment, and putting the factory out of commission, permanently. Really, the detonators were there to disguise the sabotage. Walkways and supports could be repaired. Even the dozens of droids that would be crushed by falling debris could be easily replaced.

However, the separatists probably wouldn't think to look for technological sabotage. Plus, with the chemicals down below, used in droid parts and the highly flammable oil that served as blood for battle droids would turn the lower levels of the factory into a firestorm. No one would be using _this _particular factory for a long time. "We're still about five hundred metres from the exit. Shift it people" Drake said, moving to the back of the line. He'd be able to keep a better eye on his men that way, instead of constantly glancing at his 360 degree view. One of the troopers was just ahead of the group, moving at a steady jog, setting the pace for his brothers and the general.

They were coming up to a crossroads of sorts. Four walkways, including the one Drake and the others were on, met up, at the intersection were a couple of thermal detonators, nestled beside the large durasteel support pillar. The trooper arrived at the intersection, and on the right, the door that the walkway lead to slid open, revealing a pair of super battle droids. The man cried out a warning, and turned to open fire on the droids, but the automatons were faster. A quartet of red blaster bolts punched through the troopers chest plates, knocking him backwards over the guard rail, to the factory floor hundreds of metres below. Opposite those two droids, another door opened, revealing another pair of droids, and the _clank-clank _of battle droid feet pounding on durasteel could be heard from up ahead.

"We're not getting out of here this way" one of the troopers said, and Drake had to agree. It seemed the droids agreed as well, as a loud alarm klaxon went off. "Aww, come on! Is an alarm really necessary?" Exclaimed another trooper. The general had his lightsabre out and activated, and was attempting to delfect bolts from the four droids, and the dozens of completed droids that had reactivated below, on the factory floor. "Edge? How much longer?" Asked Drake, from between gritted teeth. His shoulder wound was bugging him more than he'd anticipated, but he was still able to shoot. "Uh..three minutes. Not long enough to get to the exit from here"

Drake sighed. _'Figures. Everything was going great, until now' _switching to external audio, he shouted to be heard above the roar of blaster fire. "General! We can't make it from here! We'll need to find another way around!" Adraxis nodded, and gestured, sending one of the super battle droids flailing and shooting, off the catwalk. "Run!" The general shouted, and Drake lead the others back the way they'd come. "Turn right, here!" Adraxis shouted from the back of the line. A door opened into a small corridor, and Drake stepped to the side, waving for his brothers to precede him. Adraxis was the last in, and he shot a confused look at Drake. "Commander, are you coming?"

Drake nodded absently, already sighting up on the lead battle droid. "I'll be along shortly, general. You just worry about getting my men out of here" the general sucked in a breath, probably to order Drake to follow, and the clone turned to face his superior. "Go. _Now_. And lock the door behind you" understanding dawned in Adraxis' eyes, and the man nodded, turning and following Edge and the rest of the troopers. There was an electronic sizzle as the door behind him was short circuited. Drake grinned under his helmet. Apparently the general was full of surprises. He removed a length of cable from his belt, and tied it to one of the guard rails,clipping the other end to his belt, and hoping the durasteel railing would support his weight.

The leading battle droid was well within firing distance, but instead of shooting him, it shouted in its' metallic voice : "surrender, republic dog!" Drake smirked under his helmet. "An enemy only surrenders when he's in an unfavourable position. I'm _exactly _where I want to be, tin can" he didn't give the droid time to decipher that remark, blasting it in the chest, and turning it into scrap metal. It was clear the other dozen or so droids behind that one had no intention of talking. Drake got two more shots off, before the air around him heated up with blaster fire. _'A good thing droids have terrible aim. Or I'm just really lucky' _he thought, launching himself over the guardrail.

He wasn't aiming for the factory floor. His ascension cable was about thirty metres, not a few hundred. Another walkway crossed below the one he'd leapt off, and was only about the length of his cable. Unfortunately, the droids weren't as oblivious as he'd hoped. Several blaster bolts screamed past him, and one, either by design or blind luck, severed the cable neatly. Fortunately for Drake, he was only about three metres above the walkway when the cable was severed. He landed hard, and rolled to his knees, recovered his blaster, and stood. _"Osik"_ he snarled, glancing up at the droids leaning over the guardrail and levelling their blasters.

Drake didn't waste any time, and made his way down the walkway, putting as much distance between his men and himself as possible. The commander was no ARC. He hadn't gone through the rigorous training for sabotage, assassination, and survival that the hundred or so ARC troopers had. However, he was determined, in good shape, and armed. As a commander, he'd always known he'd have to make the hard choices that would get his men killed. Or himself, for that matter. He had no illusions that he'd get out of the factory alive. If the falling debris and flames from the explosion that was due in a little more than a minute didn't kill him, the droids would.

More of them were activating every second, and while the DC-15s was an excellent weapon, Drake didn't have enough ammo to take out even _half _the droids in the place. The droids had finally reached the walkway Drake was on, and started firing at him. He didn't bother to return fire, instead, he reached the doorway, opened it, and blasted the control panel behind him. Looking ahead, he noticed a set of stairs that went down, probably to the factory floor. Drake wasn't overly enthusiastic about facing droids where they could come at him from all sides, but it beat the alternative of waiting for the damned tin cans to blast down the door.

He headed, down, down, down. A room, either for organics on break, or perhaps security personnel, although, with all the droids in the factory, both uses were unlikely. He opened the door, noticing that the droids hadn't figured out his location yet. Or they had, and he was about to walk into an ambush. He moved onto the floor, noticing that the generals slicing of the command console had successfully shut down the factory. Machinery and conveyor belts were still, half completed droids waiting for parts that would never arrive.

He moved quickly, looking for the best way to get to the high ground, without doubling back towards the general and his men. He thought he could see a door way that lead to another staircase. Drake started making his way towards it. For all he knew, the room on the other side of the door could be a kriffing storage closet. Which would be both very annoying, and deadly, for him. He'd covered perhaps a third of the distance when a line of droids marched out from somewhere, and placed themselves in formation between two support pillars. There were perhaps twenty droids, five of them super battle droids._'Well,'_ Drake thought bleakly, _'at least there are no droidekas' _of course, that was only a matter of time. And time was something neither the droids nor Drake had.

Then, no one had bothered to tell the droids that. They opened fire, and Drake sprinted for the only cover currently available, a durasteel shipping crate. Something hot punched though his thigh plate, but he was too full of adrenaline to feel anything except a small twinge. He didn't bother to glance at the wound. By now, he seriously doubted he had more than thirty seconds, and panicking about a wound that hadn't killed him wouldn't do him, or the men dashing for the factory exit any good. He glanced out from cover, blasting apart one of the B1s'. The thin, tan coloured droid collapsed, its' weapon firing into the floor. But while the battle droids had stayed back, blocking easy access to the far door, the supers had advanced.

Well, rapidly advanced might have been a more adequate description. The lead droid was nearly on top of Drake, lowering it's arm mounted blaster, probably to turn Drakes' chest into a crater. The commander had heard once, that supers had very few weaknesses, but one of them was the thin, flexible metal mesh that served as its' armpit. Drake flung himself forwards and low as the droid fired, crashing into its' legs. The super was too sturdy to go down, and was already trying to step back, in order to get a shot at him. He scrambled to his feet, and rammed the muzzle of his rifle under the things arm, and pulled the trigger. The droid shook and smoke as the energy rounds tore apart its' internal electronics. Blaster fire from the other supers hammered into its' back, and Drake launched himself back into cover.

The droid collapsed forwards, the metal that made up its' back smoking and glowing slightly from the hail of blaster bolts it had received. Unfortunately, four other supers marched forwards, accompanied by the continuous blaster fire from the fifteen battle droids. Drake checked his ammo, which was running dangerously low, and leaned out of cover to blast another B1 to scrap. If he could take out another three or four droids in the line, he might be able to sprint for a better position. If the super battle droids didn't shoot him in the back. If his leg didn't give out. If there weren't more droids on the hand strayed to his belt, but it was futile. He'd hoped to fine more EMP grenades, to scramble the super battle droids with, at least for a little while, but he'd used all of them outside, on the streets.

"Commander! Get down!" Drake nearly yelped in surprise at the unexpected voice. Then an electro-magnetic pulse grenade landed right in front of him, and only a small distance away from the approaching supers. The grenade went off, and this time, Drake _did _yelp as his armour and helmets' systems were taken off line. Yanking off his bucket, he turned to stare at the girl running towards him, lightsabre lit, and swatting away blaster bolts. She arrived beside him, but instead of taking cover, simply stood in the open, returning blaster bolts to the droids that fired them . "Commander Starsong? What are you _doing_ here?" He wasn't sure if he should be angry or horrified.

He'd went off on his own, to buy time for the others, and now this blasted girl had come in here, waving her lightsabre around, when an explosion was about ten seconds away. She shot a startled glance, as if her reason for appearing out of nowhere and chucking a grenade towards him should be obvious. "I'm rescuing you, silly. What did you think?" Drake stared at the girl, waiting for the punch line. Realizing she was serious, he shook his head and clipped his helmet to his belt. "We've got about six seconds before this place goes up in flames. Forget the _shabla _droids and _run_ !" They ran, blaster bolts chasing after them, and Drake counted down silently in his head. His leg wasn't giving him as much trouble as he'd expected The bolt must have missed anything important.

_'3...2...1' _Drake reached zero, and flung himself forwards, catching the Jedi around the waist, and pulling her down, before covering her with his own armoured body. _Boom. _


End file.
